


A Sister's Duty

by Cookweave



Category: Soul Calibur
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookweave/pseuds/Cookweave
Summary: A non-romantic short story that is part of a series centered two years before the events of Soul Edge. This story is about Sophitia





	A Sister's Duty

It was silent throughout the halls of the Shrine of Eurydice. The only sound echoing throughout the halls is one of boots against marble, as Sophitia had once more came to pray to the gods. Once she had reached the statue, she dropped to her knees and bowed her head, before clasping her hands together, bringing them to her heart. But... something was off. Even in this peaceful place, there was a burning in her chest, along that shard of the accursed blade. It was not a sharp pain, but a slow burning that felt as if it was eating away at her very being.  
“Why are you here, Malfested?” Sophitia growled.  
From the rafters fell a blur of green, as a second set of footsteps began echoing through the halls. Behind the holy warrior walked an all-too-familiar face. A personification of chaos, and a servant, no, a slave to the cursed sword. She had a completely split personality, one of a jovial girl called Jolly and the other of a sadistic woman aptly named Gloomy. The personalities were complete opposites, but both did share one thing in common; they adored the hunt and revelled in bringing death to those around them.  
“Aww, Sophie, don’t be like that, you know what I’m here for!” The woman raised her toy-like weapon, a giant ring that resembles a hula hoop. The blade was sharpened on both the inside and outside, and this puppet was the only person the holy warrior knew could wield it. “I’m here to take your little girl!”  
Without warning, the Malfested pounced, bringing the blade down upon Sophitia. Her weapons were set upon the shrine only a few feet from her, but reaching for them will only lead to a severed limb. Instead, Sophitia grasped the weapon of the other with her left hand, but her unprotected palm would fall victim to the edge. Metal made contact with flesh, and the blade sank itself into the woman’s hand. Upon pushing it away, the fresh wound began to bleed, slicking her pale skin a vibrant shade of crimson.  
With the blade out of harm’s way, Sophitia grabbed her weaponry from the shrine, a small pool of blood dripping to just below where the Elk Shield had sat. She had chosen to take the impact on her left hand since the shield was secure on her arm, so the grip becoming harder to grasp would not be as detrimental. In one graceful movement, the woman turned and slashed straight at the throat of the other, the more traditional blade cutting through nought but air. The Malfested had leaned backwards in a graceful display of acrobatics, performing a backwards cartwheel to get herself to a more suitable distance.  
“Well well, you’re being naughty, Sophie!” Jolly would exclaim. Those words were spoken with a sense of spite in them, the slight cloud made with each word spoken seem as cold as they felt. Of course, this was simply an effect of the bitter mountain air at this time in the morning, but the mist seemed as if it formed daggers themselves, that the very air around the Malfested was becoming corrupt, more dangerous. “And you know what happens to naughty girls who don’t obey…”  
The deceptively cute features of the servant of Soul Edge soon twisted into a sadistic grimace, one that sent chills straight through the very being of Sophitia. Those once jovial tones twisted into something darker, words that were no longer playful. These words were ones of pure malice, ones that had a clear intention of pure murder.  
“Naughty girls get punished!”  
It was at this point that the Malfested woman charged again, swinging her ring blade down at Sophitia once more. This time, the blow was a lot more forceful, and there was no subtlety to it. All that this girl wanted was to slaughter the holy warrior. It was fortunate that this was the blow that connected with the Elk Shield, as this would have split through Sophie’s had and cut down through into the forearm.  
With this added recklessness came added time after the blade had bounced off the shield to land a counterattack. It was at this point that the woman brought her sword across the exposed torso of the woman, a cry of exertion escaping her lungs upon swinging the blade. The holy blade made contact with the bare flesh, leaving a cut upon the other just upon the hip, running almost to the bone. The Malfested released a roar of anguish, swinging the ring with wild abandon.  
The blows would bounce off of the shield again and again, but the fact that they were occuring so aggressively, as well as so frequently, that it was impossible for Sophitia to interrupt them with a weapon swing of her own. That was until she finally saw an opening, the same overhead swing that had already rocked her so many times previously. Sophitia raised the Elk Shield to meet with the ring blade, bouncing aside the attack and knocking the woman off balance. This was her opportunity, and in that instant… time seemed to just stop.  
Neither of them was moving an inch, nor was even the water gently dripping from a fountain in the shrine. Yet, Sophitia’s mind was racing. She had the upper hand upon her opponent, so now it was time to defeat her. Yet...  
‘…’  
She thought that she had heard something. A whisper in the silence, perhaps a mere side effect from the adrenaline of this life-or-death encounter with a merciless killer. But then, the whisper increased in volume, and continued to repeat itself. The voice was… familiar. Comforting. Yet, what it said was the opposite. It culminated with a command, and a threat that Sophitia simply could not ignore.  
‘Kill her! Otherwise your sister and your children would be next!’  
Time had restarted.  
“TAAAAHHHHH!”  
In that instant that felt like an eternity, the subtle influence of that blade had gotten to her. She had thrust the Omega Sword forwards, the only thing causing it to slow down being the torso of her assailant. She could feel the difficulty that the blade had sliding through, but she could only look down at her hand. She had put the blade in to the base, the viscous liquid escaping from the wound darker than blood from a simple cut. A pool of crimson would form at the pair’s feet, the only sound that filled the air after that was the clanging of the ring blade being dropped.  
Sophitia’s head tilted up to look at her victim, the silent agony on her face. In this state, even she, the psychotic killer, looked vulnerable. In her eyes… fear, as she could feel the life slowly draining from her body. That wound was fatal, and both of them knew it. The blade was pulled out, and Sophitia pushed the girl’s corpse away from her. It fell, the blood now pooling underneath her midriff as her skin grew pale, and any signs of motion simply stopped. She was dead, and it was Sophitia who had taken her life.  
A sharp pain then shot entirely through Sophitia’s body, as if it was her that was just stabbed, straight through the heart. The pulses of agony were akin to lava flowing through her veins with each and every pulse. Soon enough, her legs gave out, and Sophitia would hit the ground, writhing in tormenting agony. At least, so she had thought.  
She woke up in a cold sweat, the gentle moonlight shining through the handmade curtains of the room. Her bedsheets were soaked through, and every inch of her was covered in a freezing sweat. Looking down, there was no wound in her palm, which she soon placed to her chest. Her heart was racing, but there was no pain with the flow of her blood, nor was there a scar upon her chest. She glanced over to the other cot that was in the room, able to see that her teenage sister was still there, sound asleep and undisturbed. Cassandra was safe, good… but what was that voice mentioning about her child? She was only 16 years of age at this point.  
The year was 1582, and Sophitia had found herself out of bed before dawn on this cold winter morning, walking up to the very place that she had been in her nightmare. Perhaps it was a premonition of things to come, but for now, Sophitia would remain clueless. Seeking the respite that she so desperately needed, all that the young woman would do is kneel, clasp her hands to her chest and bow her head in prayer.  
“Hephaestus… please hear my plea…”  
The date was January 15th, 1582. The bitter cold was in the air and sent a shiver down Sophitia’s spine. She was just finishing up an extremely long reflection upon herself after what was a scarily accurate nightmare, but the wind upon her face was a gentle reminder that she was very much alive. That thought alone was enough to soothe the girl.  
Dusting off her skirt and giving a small bow to the statue of Hephaestus in the shrine, Sophitia would turn and walk back to her home. It was a well-walked pathway, one that the majority of her small village was used to walking, since it was only five minutes away.  
The small village that Sophitia made her home in was based up a mountain on the outskirts of Athens. It was only home to around one hundred and fifty people, all of whom had their set roles in the village. In the case of the Alexandra family, they were bakers, and Sophitia was first in line to inherit the small, yet city-famous bakery from her parents.  
She was the eldest child of Achelous and Nike Alexandra, the current owners of the Alexandra Bakery, famous for the quality of their goods. People travel from all over to visit the bakery and take a taste of one of their goods, which are usually gone before the midday sun. Her younger siblings were Cassandra, a tomboyish 12-year-old who was the most popular aspect of the entire bakery, and Lucius, eight-years old and currently not helping out with the bakery’s functioning.  
Sophitia would open the door to her home, knowing that Nike and Cassandra would be up at this time, baking some small cakes for sale later. Cassandra turned as the heavy wooden door would open, rushing over and embracing her beloved big sister.  
“Don’t sneak away like that! I got scared when you weren’t in bed when I got up!” Cassandra would poke at the stomach of the elder sister in an attempt to make her feel a little remorse for what she did. Of course, it didn’t work since Sophitia placed a gentle hand upon the top of Cassandra’s head. She wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer, so it was only right that the girl cherished every moment that they had now.  
“Sorry, Cassandra. I had a nightmare, so I went to the shrine to collect my thoughts…”  
“Another nightmare? These seem to be happening more and more, Sophie…” Nike would speak up, taking a moment to step away from the bowl of cake mix that she was creating. Cassandra picked up the bowl and picked up where her mother left off.  
Nike Alexandra was a beautiful woman, no one would have argued with that. Her features were small and cute, made only the more relaxing by the motherly smile that she almost always wore upon her face. Her hair was golden, just as it was for her three children, and was in a braid that went over her right shoulder and down to her waist, often adorned with a flower in her hair. She loved her husband and children above all else and was worried for the fact that her eldest was being troubled so.  
“Yes, Mother… I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner, but I feel as if I may have gone mad if I hadn’t left immediately.” Sophitia gave a small sigh as she scratched at her chin, before her mother immediately gave an embrace to her teenage child. She knew that she would have to explain what that dream was to her soon, but for now… she would just enjoy the embrace of her mother, the loving arms that would forever be there for her children.  
Soon enough, the three girls were preparing the shop for the onslaught of customers that were about to enter into the bakery and shop them dry. In the back, Nike and Achelous were putting the finishing touches on their goods, whilst in the front the two sisters were sorting the displays as well as each other’s clothes. A line was starting to form, most people there for the cakes.  
However, there were also plenty of men outside waiting to see the girls themselves. Soon enough, Sophitia was to be of age and many a man was wanting to take full opportunity of that. The offers of marriage have come thick and fast, and frankly Sophitia was overwhelmed by it all.  
As for the younger Alexandra, Cassandra was of the age where all of her friends were starting to become interested in girls. She may have been a tomboy, but she still resembled her mother perhaps more than Sophitia did. The elder sister always thought that the younger was far more attractive than herself, even at this early age.  
The line outside was growing ever larger, looks as if they were in for a long day…  
“How many letters did you get, Sis?” The younger sister would ask as the pair sat by the fire. The front of the store always was cold on winter days, so the girls always had a bowl of stew waiting for them once they had finished selling their goods for the day. The pair of them had piles of letters as well, since there were many a person looking to push their luck.  
“I think I got seventeen today. I don’t know why you are so obsessed with them, Cassandra.” Sophitia huffed as she flicked through the envelopes, all sealed neatly. Several of them had the crest of major nobles from the main city, which made the contents all the clearer. “These letters feel empty to me, and most just want me so that they can brag about having a pretty wife.”  
“So?” Cassandra gave a small scoff as she flicked through the notes handed to her. There were only four, and they were much more scruffily presented. To be expected from teenagers. There was a fifth note that was a lot more neatly presented, but Sophie had taken that one away. She would go over it a bit later on.  
“I don’t just want to marry someone that I don’t love!” Sophitia exclaimed.  
“But think of it this way. Those nobles can be kinda cute, plus you get to live in the main city, have all your worries taken away from you AND you’ll have a boatload of cash to have all the luxuries in the world.”  
“I don’t want that.”  
Cassandra tilted her head, rather puzzled to hear the elder sister say that. “Why not?”  
Sophitia sighed a little bit. How would she explain such a thing to her little sister? In fact, should she even explain it to her? Surely this was a job that was better suited for Nike to do. Confirming that to herself, Sophitia would give another pat to her beloved sister’s head, before standing up and taking the notes up into her own room.  
“I’ll tell you when you’re older, okay?”  
The two sisters had finally had their fair share of stew and were now full and warm for the afternoon. As was usual for the bakery, they were closed come midday and the girls were free to do as they pleased in the afternoon. However, Sophitia had decided to lock herself in her room in order to study the letters that had been provided to her and, more importantly, the one that was delivered to Cassandra. This was the first one that would be opened.  
Bringing her tiny blade to the top of the letter, the woman would cut open the top of the envelope before sliding the letter out. The paper immediately smelled of oak smoke, and the penmanship was immaculate. This was not a good sign, as this likely was a letter of love sent to her little sister. Was this immoral? Most likely. Yet Sophitia did not regret this; she was trying to protect her sister. And by the look of this letter, her judgement is correct.  
To my dearest Cassandra,  
I am writing this to express the truth behind my feelings. No longer do you need to hide in the shadow of your mother and sister, for my feelings for you are unconditional. You are a beautiful flower freshly bloomed, unsullied by age. I want to meet you by the temple. I shall be there all afternoon. Come alone, and we shall elope into an eternity of happiness!  
Kindest regards,  
L.  
Sophitia could feel herself getting more and more annoyed with each word that she read. This man was dangerous, trying to use sweet words to whisk away young girls in a promise of eloping. But those sweet words hid a poison that would be invisible to a naïve girl, a child. The elder sister knew that she had to act, and fast. She could not allow such a person to carry on with these ways.  
Taking the small letter opener as well as the letter, Sophitia would hide it on her person before heading down the stairs. The young woman would rush out of the door, fortunately not running into anyone as she left the door. On the outside, she was not so lucky.  
“Sophie? You off somewhere?”  
It was her mother, Nike. She was simply maintaining the plants in front of the baker, and making sure that the front of the building was pleasant for all to view.  
“Oh, Mother! Yes, I was just heading out now.”  
“Is it a date?”  
“M-mother! I-I… well, sort of…” Sophitia would stumble over her words. She couldn’t just go and tell her mother that she was going to meet a stranger who only wanted Cassandra, now… Fortunately, Nike believed her, and simply waved her eldest daughter.  
“It is! Oh, my Sophie is finally all grown up, going on dates! Hurry along now, don’t want to be late,”  
“It’s here,” Sophitia thought to herself. She was waiting at the temple that she was all too familiar with, turning to find the man in question. He was in his late 20s, with rugged facial hair and a kept ponytail. His clothes were fine, but the longsword at his hip certainly was concerning, as was the cloak that he had upon his back.  
“Oh, my dearest Cassandra! I am glad you are here—” The man stopped himself mid-sentence, realising that this was not the girl that he was here to see. This was the elder sister. She was old enough to realise that this was a trap for the young girl, yet she triggered it in place of Cassandra? The nerve of her! No matter, she would have to do. “Why are you here?”  
Sophitia’s face was grim as the male approached her, her back now pressing against the wall. There was a sense of dread looming over her, unsure what was about to happen. Yet she steeled her resolve, knowing that if it wasn’t her, they would get Cassandra. “I’m here so you don’t get my sister involved in something dangerous.”  
The male gave a snarl before his hand wrapped around the throat of Sophitia, pinning her against the wall. She would struggle, attempting to pry his fingers away from her neck, but a quick slash at her palm with a dagger was more than enough to stop that. The dagger would now rest itself at the delicate skin that covered Sophitia’s jugular. “Look who decided to be so bold. Well, the boss doesn’t like us returning empty-handed. Looks like you belong to the Fygul Cemestus now.”  
Fygul Cemestus.  
That name echoed through the mind of the girl, she was well aware of their notoriety. They were a cult that was dedicated to Ares, the god of war. Recently, rumours had spread that the group were looking for a pirate whom had a pair of legendary swords, capable of inhuman feats. Perhaps these girls were being used for that purpose.  
But none of that mattered at this point in time. Sophitia could feel herself struggling to breathe due to the hand around her throat. The slash against her palm, was that a premonition of today? No, it couldn’t have been. The girl wasn’t ready to fight, she didn’t even know how. Sophitia had to think, and fast. Remembering what her father had taught her in order to protect herself should she be alone, Sophitia’s hands would travel behind the male’s back and she squeezed, bringing him towards her. Simultaneously, she had raised her knee to be level with his crotch, as she pushed that forward.  
The dagger fell away from her neck, along with the hand as the cultist doubled over in agony. Sophitia fell to her knees alongside him, struggling to get her breath back, but he was in much better shape than her assailant. People may say that what the girl did there was a dishonourable way to fight, but the way that she saw it, it was better to be dishonourable and live then to die. Besides, her opponent was not exactly a shining example of honour.  
Taking the knife that the other had dropped, the girl would soon flee, the cultist soon coming to his senses and giving chase. He was faster than her, and so it would only be a matter of time before he was in distance to grasp her and bring her down. At least Sophitia had made it back to town before that, and the other would stop giving chase. After all, he would have to look inconspicuous, blend in to the crowd.  
Sophitia would look down to her hand, watching as a trail of crimson leaked from the wound to the floor. This was far too similar to what had happened in the nightmare that the girl had, does that mean that on this day, she would take someone’s life? No, it was a nightmare and nothing more, no matter how vivid or realistic it may have seemed to her.  
Shaking her head, Sophitia would tuck the dagger into her belt, trying to use her clothing as a makeshift wrap for the blade. The goal here was clear; all she had to do was find the village guard, and report what she saw to him. Alas, she had lost sight of the individual who was chasing her, and so she was a sitting duck.  
Then, a scream. An all too familiar scream.

It belonged to Cassandra.

The scream had echoed throughout the small village. The first to make it there was Sophitia, who could see her younger sister was clearly in distress, running through the streets and beginning to panic. The girl dashed forward, taking Cassandra by the hand, and pulling her in for a close, almost motherly embrace. She was safe, and that was all that mattered right now.  
“Cassandra! Are you alright,” she asked, her hands shaking. The younger sister looked up and through tear-filled eyes, nodded.  
“I-I just found the guard on duty… d-d-dead!”  
Dead. Those words shot through Sophitia like a bolt of lightning. To think that someone would be killed all over a twelve-year-old girl… this cult was so much worse than she had even began to imagine. Everyone in the village was on good terms with one another, there wasn’t enough people around to allow for grudges. The killer must have been that cultist. “Cassandra,” Sophitia would say softly, trying to keep her younger sister calm. She could feel that her hand was leaving a bloody print on her back, but she could worry about the consequences of that later. “I need you to show me where the body is, okay?”  
Another nod, as the younger sister sniffled and took Sophitia’s hand in her own. It was at this point that Cassandra finally noticed. “You’re bleeding!”  
“It’s nothing.”  
“But—”  
“I’ll be fine, Cassandra. Please, just take me to the body…”  
A rather large crowd had now started forming around the back alley, looking over the grizzly scene that was in front of them. This man was well known, one of the three main guards in the village. He had a wife, four children. He didn’t deserve to be killed, especially not in a way so grim.  
Once the two girls were there, there, Sophitia raised her hands to cover a gasp. The smell of copper erupted into her nose, eyes widening in shock. The guard didn’t even have a chance to fight back. A large hole was visible in his chest, and his left arm had been taken clean off, about ten feet away from where he lay. Instinctively, the young woman brought her younger sister close to her once more, allowing for her to bury her wettened face in her blouse. The two would not be given time to grieve though, as Sophitia caught sight of the culprit in the crowd on the other side. Moreover, he had caught sight of her.  
“Cassandra. Run. Go back home now. Stay in plain sight, do not dawdle. Now go!”  
Pushing Cassandra away into the crowd, she would land near another family that was viewing this scene. Fortunately, the other two guards were with them, as well as their prodigal son, a master blacksmith, who would soon be turning seventeen. The father would place a hand on his sword but would not draw it. He gave a small smile as he spoke. “Come on, Rothion. You heard Sophitia, let’s get her home to the bakery.”  
Whilst the family would escort Cassandra back to safety, Sophitia would be purposely running away from plain sight, but close enough so that her screams could be heard. The man had given up on trying to chase the younger sister, and instead focused solely on capturing the elder sister. Drawing his longsword, still tinted red from his previous murder, he would cry out. “You better get your pretty little ass back here. Come quietly, and I’ll only rough you up a little before taking you to Kunpaektu,”  
Sophitia made a turn into a cluttered alley by the tavern, far enough ahead to hide behind the barrels. She could see that he had run past her but could hear his breathing. He had stopped and was looking for the girl. Knowing that running was no longer an option, Sophitia drew the knife that she had acquired from him. He was much more armed than her, and the teenage girl knew little more than what she was taught by her father in order to defend herself. In a fair fight, she would not stand a chance. But she had the element of surprise on her side.  
Once the woman knew that his back was turned, she would strike, plunging the knife deep into his thigh. She pulled it out and turned to run away but felt as something blunt hit her right in the small of her back as she turned. Sophitia fell to the ground, the impact having sent a shock through her body. She turned to face the other, who stared into the girl’s very soul with a clear gaze of disdain and hatred. It was clear in his eyes. Why should he bring her back alive? She could just kill her and her parents, taking the younger girl! “You’re giving me fewer and fewer reasons for me to let you live, girlie!”  
Climbing slowly to her feet, the eldest Alexandra child was sluggish. The impact against her spine felt as if it had trapped her nerves, each motion she made as if wading through a thick mud. She wanted to run, she wanted to escape, but her body simply would not allow her to do so.  
The man would put away his sword for the moment, before grabbing the girl by the shirt. He would yank at it, causing all of the buttons to be pulled apart, leaving her midsection exposed to the biting January wind. He would throw a punch directly below where her ribcage was, causing Sophitia to double over in agony. Just as she would knead the air out of dough, the wind would escape her lungs, making her desperately gasp for air. But the male was not satisfied. He wanted her to suffer.  
“Stand up, bitch,” The man would take a grasp of her hair, before throwing another punch, this time directly at her jaw. The knife flew away from her as Sophitia was knocked back to the ground. Her cheek showed an immediate sign of swelling and bruising, as her mouth began to fill with copper from a cut to the inside of said cheek. It was at that point the male drew his sword once more, more, a look of sadistic glee appearing upon his face. He would slam the blade into the dirt through her long skirt, ripping it so that it was exposing as high as her thigh. The fabric had also obscured where her flesh was, and so the sword also left a nasty cut upon her inner thigh.  
With the breath that she had only just regained, Sophitia let out a scream of agony, which was swiftly cut off by the make stomping on her still-exposed stomach, once again knocking the wind out of her. He would begin to laugh as Sophitia slowly crawled backwards, the dagger now in reach. The crawling was once again cut off with a stomp, this time to her chest. Certain that she could feel a rib crack, Sophitia’s face was one of silenced agony. She wanted to cry, to scream out, but the fact that she had been so badly winded twice simply made that impossible. Her eyes would close as she whispered a silent, swift prayer, but that was interrupted. Eyes would shoot open and begin to tear, as Sophitia felt a coldness against her neck once again. She was helpless, and there was a sword pressed against her neck. All it would take was one motion, and she was dead.  
“I’m going to have fun setting them up to find you, girlie…”  
The sword was rubbed gently across the neck of Sophitia, where she could feel the freezing cold steel leave a dirt and blood-laced trail across her neck. She was very careful with her neck, since one false move and she was dead.  
“Prepare to die, bitch!”  
The cultist raised the blade from her neck, ready to bring it down in a brutal act of barbarism. It was in this moment that Sophitia took her chance. She took a grip of the knife, and upon bringing it close to her would-be killer, the cultist stumbled back off of her, shielding his eyes and groaning in pain. Huh, thought the girl, unsure of what had just happened. However upon inspection, the blade was crackling with what appeared to be harmless, golden lightning. It was an odd phenomenon, but there was no point in dawdling on it.  
Like a ravenous dog on the hunt, Sophitia seized her opportunity and stabbed the male in his sword arm. With the strike, a howl of pain erupted as a gentle crackle floated through the air. The strike was more effective than expected; having seemingly completely disabled the other’s motion in their right arm. It was at that point a boom of thunder echoed through the air. Panicking, the woman stepped back, and shielded herself as best she could when lightning was thrown from the gods themselves, striking at the dagger with pinpoint precision. The cultist collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap, Sophitia unsure of whether the man was actually dead.  
The cultist, who was somehow still alive despite the divine intervention, was grabbed by the parent’s of Rothion, the town’s two remaining guards. Who would bind him with rope to be taken to the capital to most likely be tortured and executed. This was clearly the will of the gods, seeing this the fitting punishment for meddling with their chosen messenger. Divine powers had a plan set for the young Sophitia, even if she did not yet know it. Soon enough, however, she was grasped from behind in a loving embrace.  
“My poor baby! What did he do to you? Don’t worry, he’s gone now…” Nike sobbed as she held her beaten and bruised eldest daughter close to her. When she heard about what happened, she was worried sick, and soon set out to find her. To know that her daughter was alive was the best thing that she could have heard. “He didn’t… have his way, did he?”  
Sophitia tilted her head a little, before giving a bloodied, yet endearing smile to her mother. Sure, she was in bad shape at the moment, but the fact that her wounds are ultimately superficial, and that he had not done more than simply injure her, were more than enough to put her parents at ease. “I’m okay, Mother. He didn’t do anything like that to me. How is Cassandra?”  
“Cassie’s fine, dear. She’s just shaken up about all this.”  
“That’s not surprising. This was truly an awful day. She was the first to find Patroklos too. The poor soul… why was he killed?”  
This brought an air of silence over the two of them. In the case of Nike, it was silence. In Sophitia’s, anger. Why could she not have found out about this monster stalking Cassandra sooner? That way the guards could have sorted him pre-emptively. Patroklos didn’t have to die. But there was no time to worry about that. Sophitia’s clothes were torn to pieces, and she would catch her death if she wasn’t taken inside soon.  
Sat by the fireplace after having been visited by the local apothecary, Sophitia would stare into the fire from the comfort of a cushioned chair. Their parents were still worried sick and would spoil her for the next few days, but they were also proud. Sophitia had explained what had happened, and after getting a scolding from her father for doing something so reckless, he praised her for being so considerate and watching out for her sister. And now, it was time for Cassandra to find out the truth.  
“Cassandra…”  
“Yeah huh?” Cassandra would look up from her book over to her sister. A small wince appeared on her face as she spoke, only able to imagine the pain that her older sister was in right now.  
“About today… I went to meet that man in your place. As you know now, that man was a part of the Fygul Cemestus. For some reason, they want to capture girls of your age. To think that someone would want to take you like that,” Sophitia felt her eyes well up once more. It seemed as if she had been crying a lot for today, but for once these are tears of relief. After all, everything was okay in the end. “I took the letter from your pile this morning, it seemed so suspicious compared to the others… I-I… I hope you aren’t mad…”  
Cassandra gave a long sigh, placed a bookmark in her tome, and slammed it shut. She placed it to one side and walked towards her sister. Chest leant forward and feet in line with one another, she walked towards her elder sister. Once she was there, she would raise her hand and poked her in the nose with her index finger. “I don’t wanna hear it,” she would say with a grin. “What you did was stop me from being stupid and save me from a terrible fate. Yeah, I’m kinda mad that you took one of MY letters instead of showing it to me, but you risked your backside for me. I’m just… glad you’re okay.”  
Sophitia gave a small smile as the tears began to stream down her face, she would reach into her pocket and hand over the letter, now heavily crumpled from all of the abuse it would have taken during the day. Cassandra would take it and glance over it. Soon enough, she was laughing out loud. “BWAHAHAHAHA! This is meant to woo me into genuinely wanting to run away with him? Who even WROTE this, a seventy-year old? A beautiful flower freshly bloomed, unsullied by age? Pfffffft! What does that even mean? LOOK AT ME! I’m the least graceful one in the family, I love getting into scraps with the other boys! Lucian is more graceful and beautiful than me! You’re the rose, Sis! I’m the stalk with all the thorns on it!”  
Sophitia, watching as Cassandra ridiculed the letter in a way that only she ever could do, wiped away her tears and began laughing alongside her sister. It hurt every time she inhaled, but at least the pain was shared with someone she loved, instead of being in vain.  
“Cassandra, you’re such a dolt…”

END


End file.
